All Right
by LaLaGirl33
Summary: Pre-series: Teenagers Jax and Tara really see each other, perhaps for the first time and their unique bond begins. One-shot.
Tara's dad shook his head and refused to understand why she needed to go to Woodside, but he dropped her off at the gate just the same. But Tara knew. And the possibilities were endless, really, as to why she visited like clockwork.

Maybe it was because her dad had let her down again, and she just needed to be close to the one person who'd always been there for her, once upon a time. Or maybe it was because she'd had another rough couple days at school, and she just wanted some perspective - because no matter how bad it was, it could always be worse. Or maybe it was just because she missed her mom like hell, and she just wanted her back so bad. That the only way to convince herself that she was really gone; that she was never going to hug her again, or dance like crazy in the living room, or laugh over stupid jokes, or snuggle on the couch watching scary movies... was to go to Woodside. See her mom's name etched on the tombstone; words that stole her breath like a heartless thief _every single time_. She kept coming back to make herself face that this was for real; this was how things were always going to be. And it helped.

Her dad on the other hand; he wasn't dealing so well. While Tara thought she looked pretty much the same on the outside while her insides were all messed up some of the time; her dad was pretty much messed up on both the outside and the inside, all of the time. And his coping skills were for shit. You'd think by now, five years later, that maybe he would've found a healthy way to deal. But he didn't.

Tara bit her lip as she pulled out some cleaning rags and started to wipe off the dirt spots that had accumulated since her last visit. She pulled a weed that was starting to sprout and then sat back with a deep sigh. She took a few deep breaths and started repeating the mantra in her head that came unconsciously to the surface of her brain, unbidden; eyes shut tight: "My mom is dead. My mom is dead. She isn't coming back. She's never coming back. She loved me. She loved me so much. She wants me to be okay with this. I want to be okay with this. I need to be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay. I'm all right. All right."

Slowly the words seeped out of her head and rolled as fat tears down her cheeks. Her breathing slowed and calmed as she repeated the last few words over and over; until finally, she let out a long, slow breath and slowly opened her eyes. She picked up her bag and turned to walk back to the cemetery's entrance.

She felt eyes upon her, and while she didn't feel like connecting with anyone at that moment, her eyes were drawn to the small figure curled up on the steps of a mausoleum. It looked like a small stone cottage; but it was a private internment for the rich. The girl looked to be about her age. Her clothes were ratty, but the army-green blanket wrapped over her shoulders looked like a cloak of protection from the hurts of the world. Their eyes locked and Tara felt an inner peace spread through her body; through her soul; and she couldn't look away and didn't want to. She was filled with peace.

Crash! Tara's attention was sharply pulled away by the sound of breaking glass hitting metal. She walked a little faster as she approached the corner of the stone pillar at the gate's entrance, and came to an abrupt halt as she watched Jax Teller drop another armload of empty bottles into the metal trash can at the entrance. She turned over her shoulder to look back for the mysterious brown-haired girl, but she was gone. How could that be? She was just there…she frowned, and turned back to Jax.

She barely knew him, knew him only because Charming was a small town- which meant everyone knew everyone else's business. So she knew what everyone else knew: Jax Teller was handsome as hell, and smart as a whip, but he was guaranteed trouble with a capital T. Just barely a teenager and already a hell-raiser. She was pretty certain that she and Jax had very little in common.

He looked up as she approached, took a drag on his cigarette and picked up the last of the bottles off the ground to dump them into the trash.

"Hey. Sorry about all the racket."

Tara bit her lip and slowly approached him. She knew his dad had recently died in a horrible motorcycle accident just out of town on the 580. And she also knew how hard it was when people didn't mention it, like it didn't happen. What people didn't understand, was that all you really wanted was to talk about it. But instead, people were afraid to bring it up; afraid they'd upset you, or make you cry. But that's all you wanted to do, was have someone acknowledge what was happening. That you were in pain, hurting. But it wasn't about pity- quite the opposite, actually. It was about respecting the dead. To avoid the topic was the worst possible thing to do.

"Hey. It's okay. I was just leaving anyway." She took a deep breath. Although she knew that she had to bring it up, it didn't make it any easier to do. "Hey Jax, I was really sorry to hear… about your dad." He looked up, and met her steady gaze with his own. She didn't stop, even though his gaze should have ripped through her like a knife, it was so full of pain. Somehow, she pressed on. "I uh… I know it's not easy. And I know I don't have the right words to say, I mean, nothing's really right. But if it helps at all, I know what it's like… and I just wanted to say, that I'm truly sorry for your loss."

She saw tears briefly fill his eyes before he looked away. He said nothing, but took another drag on his cigarette before rubbing it out on the rim and tossing it into the trash.

"Thanks Tara." He paused and looked off towards the graveyard before turning to look her in the eyes again. "You here visiting someone?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah. My mom. She passed a few years ago. I was only nine. But… sometimes it still feels like… like it just happened." She paused, looked away. "I still come here though," she paused again. "I don't know… I just do. It helps," She finished quietly.

"Yeah. I think I get it," he answered, nodding his head with a grave look in his eyes. She sighed. Best to change the subject now, she thought. That was something else she learned over the past few years. Acknowledge the pain, but move on gently if the timing was right. He'd bring it back around if he wanted to; and if that happened, she'd follow his lead. It was a soft way to let the grieving person move on from the conversation; on their own time.

She nodded at the trash can. "So, did you have a party out here?"

He grinned, and looked embarrassed, "Naw... Well okay, sort of. Me and Ope tossed back a few in the old man's honor last night. Can't believe we just left all those dead soldiers…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head as he realized the bad pun. "Wow, I'm sorry. I mean, shit, nothing I say seems to come out right lately."

She smiled in sympathy. "It's okay. I understand. After my mom died, I, well…there's a whole part of my life that's just… I don't know, gone. So yeah, it was pretty rough there for a while." That wasn't the half of it, really. Tara had pretty much been taking care of herself, and her dad, ever since. And she was only fourteen.

He nodded his head, his eyes squinting as if he was focusing really hard. Lips pursed with bitter understanding she couldn't help but see as he mumbled, "Yeah, I can imagine."

Tara tried not to wince. No doubt Jax Teller, like everyone else in Charming, knew her dad had an issue with liquor. It hadn't always been that way though, had it? She honestly couldn't remember.

Jax sighed, and met her gaze again. "I just…I can't believe he's gone."

"I know." She could see his pain so clearly, and wished she could make it better. She knew from experience though, that talking about it helped. So she was helping him, in the only way she could.

"Does it get any easier?" Her heart broke a little at the hope and the pain, so clearly shining in his eyes.

"Well… not really. It's hard to describe. It just changes." Tara knew she couldn't lie, or sugarcoat it for him. He'd want the truth. And he could handle it, she realized. She took a deep breath. "The hardest part isn't life without her. _The hardest part is that the life that would have been… it will never be_."

He nodded his head, slowly.

"Hey, you need a ride?" he asked, and gestured to his motorcycle. She had never been on one. The thought excited her and scared her too, just a little. But the excitement won out.

"Yeah, I guess so. But… are you even old enough to drive that thing? Is that legal?"

He laughed, and it lit up his whole face; his entire being actually, and she saw him so clearly in that moment: Jax Teller was beautiful. "Ah, come on darlin', we can't let a little thing like Johnny Law stop us!" She couldn't help but grin back, and took his outstretched hand as he led her to where his bike was parked. His hand was warm, and he gave it a little squeeze that made her insides melt a little.

"Seriously, I have my M1 class permit and I'll get my license when I'm sixteen; but sweetheart, I've been riding since I was old enough not to fall over. You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me," he grinned, and handed her his helmet.

"Okay," she smiled shyly. Heck, why not live a little? He swung his leg over to sit deep in the seat, and she did the same as the motor roared to life.

"Hold on tight, darlin'! This is no time to be shy now, I'm serious."

Tara rolled her eyes. He probably said that to all the girls, but she did as she was told and leaned in to press her body to his back and clasp her hands around his waist. "Like this?" she asked shakily.

"Uh huh, just like that. A little tighter if you like. Here we go!" He eased out of the parking area slowly and then she squealed as he really let it fly on the open road. She could feel him chuckle at her response, and she didn't resist the urge to hold on tighter. She pressed her cheek into his back as she trembled with exhilaration. His shirt smelled clean, like freshly washed cotton and soap; which surprised her- and just a hint of sweet tobacco. He smelled good. Right.

When he slowed to a stop at the corner, he turned his head to ask quietly, "You all right back there?"

"Yeah," She grinned. "I'm all right." And she was.

FIN

A/N: This is my first Sons of Anarchy story - a one-shot. Hope you enjoyed - tell me what you think via a review :-) Thanks in advance, and happy writing/reading!


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